


one who knows you and loves you just the same

by thesecretdetectivecollection



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, also they were roommates, and teammates, guy falling for his brother's best friend, i know it's all the tropes at once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 14:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15488442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretdetectivecollection/pseuds/thesecretdetectivecollection
Summary: Stevie isn’t Jamie’s first best friend. Paulie is. That changes as they grow older and Jamie and Stevie both make it onto Liverpool's first team.Things steady out then. (Until they turn upside down again.)





	1. Chapter 1

Stevie isn’t Jamie’s first best friend. Paulie is.

He meets Paulie in primary school, playing football out on the playground. Jamie loves football too, with all his heart, and so they hit it off, forming a strike partnership that, appropriately enough, strikes fear into the hearts of the opponents every time.

Stevie’s just his kid brother, tagging along wherever Paul goes with wide, shiny eyes. Paulie gets annoyed at him and complains when he and Jamie are alone, but Jamie doesn’t mind their little shadow. He’s shy, doesn’t talk much, and he’s always so eager to help them, to go fetch balls or push them on the swings or even out the numbers on the teams.

Jamie grows fond of him over time. Stevie’s just older than Jamie’s younger brothers, so they all play together. Sometimes he and Paulie leave him to watch Jamie’s brothers and sneak away to get up to some other mischief instead.

As they grow older, Paulie gets more interested in flirting with girls during recess and prefers rugby to football. Jamie still considers him a friend, they still laugh and joke together, but he doesn’t share either of those new interests. Girls are fun to flirt with, sure, but nowhere near as fun as football is. Besides, that’s what class time is for, not their precious little recess.

Stevie tries to follow Paul into rugby and flirting, but Paul puts his foot down, cruel in that typical adolescent way. Besides, Stevie’s a little too skinny, with an awkward hairline and he’s shy around girls, and they don’t even look at him when Paul’s around, flexing his biceps and running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair.

So Stevie hangs out with Jamie instead, and they go from being connected by Paulie to being actual true friends. Jamie never says it out loud, but at some point, Stevie becomes his real best friend, and Paulie just becomes his brother.

He feels fiercely protective of Stevie, setting him up on double dates with him and whatever girl agrees and has a pretty and willing friend.

They keep up with football, too, and at one of their matches, there’s a rumor that there might be a professional scout in the audience. They peer out at the people watching, but nobody looks special enough to be a professional scout, so they just focus on playing their hearts out instead. Jamie’s not a striker anymore, having dropped into midfield at around age ten. Stevie’s a midfielder too, and Jamie’s well aware that his best mate shines brighter than he ever will.

So he’s not surprised when Stevie gets an offer in the mail a few days later, asking him to come train with Liverpool’s U16s. Stevie’s almost shaking when he tells him and Jamie pulls him into a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Stevie-boy. You’re going to be brilliant. Don’t be too nervous, okay? Just play and be yourself, they’ll love you, guaranteed.”

Stevie smiles up at him and for a moment Jamie remembers the little boy running around after him and Paulie, and he’s so proud he thinks he might burst.

Stevie is a wonder on the ball, so no, Jamie’s not surprised when he gets an offer.

But he is when he gets an offer of his own, a few days later.

He calls Stevie immediately and Stevie yells so loud that Jamie can hear his family asking him what’s wrong.

They celebrate for a little while, go out to see a film and spend hours doing drills in the park and daydreaming about training with a professional team.

Stevie’s gonna make it, Jamie’s got no doubts. He’s a bit more realistic about his own chances, though. He’s got a shot, but he’ll have to work like hell. He doesn’t have that spark inside him like Stevie does, that way of making football beautiful just by being there.

They make it somehow. Both of them. Attached at the hip until their coaches and teammates take to calling them _StevieandCarra_ , no spaces.

They room together on away nights, and when they move out of their parents’ homes, it’s to a cozy little two bedroom flat where they live together. They get older and more famous and they trade in the flat for a house at some point and the rust bucket they’d shared makes way for a shining blue Mercedes and an equally shiny red Beamer.

They go on steadily like that, going out for dinner and out to movies and on vacation together until everyone including their families is teasing them about being a boring old married couple. They laugh and shrug it off, grinning at each other.

Jamie begins affectionately calling Stevie his “platonic soulmate,” and Stevie pouts playfully when he does.

“What do you mean platonic?! We’ve been married for years!”

It becomes a running joke and they’re so comfortable with it that everyone else grows used to it too. It’s strange that two people can spend all their time together and never get tired of each other, but they’re happy and that’s all that really counts, after all.

As the 2004-05 season draws to an end, they reach the Champions League final, miracles and good fortune coming together to give them this one golden opportunity.

The game starts.  
  
Halfway through, it’s miserable.

And then, suddenly, it’s _not_ miserable. It’s work, and it’s long odds, and Jamie knows about both those things, and he’s beat them both before, more than once. He might not play the prettiest football, but he knows how to grind, and he’s ready to grind until his knees fall off, if that’ll get them the silver cup.

It does.

Jamie can feel his body reacting, can just make out the deafening roar of the crowd over the blood pumping in his ears. He’s beaming and screaming and hugging his teammates and Rafa and applauding the fans.

He’s doing all of this, but his mind is still numb. His legs are weak and shaky and each step he takes, he’s half-afraid he’ll fall, that his body will give out on him. He knows they’ve won, but he can’t quite believe it. Maybe tomorrow he’ll be able to. He hadn’t thought that it would be like this, winning a Champions League. He’s covered in confetti and posing with the cup and his teammates and his heart is about beating out of his chest and his poor mind almost can’t comprehend it. There’s so much joy, but it’s in the background, and there’s a strange blankness in the forefront.

He keeps waiting to wake up. But he’d never dreamed this big for himself anyway.

The flashbulbs go off, and Stevie’s on his other side, and they’re each holding the cup from one side, hoisting it high in the air. They set it down on the pitch, and pose with their teammates, and just before the team’s official photographer takes a photo, Stevie looks at him.

It’s Stevie. Stevie who ran to fetch balls when he and Paulie were playing football. Stevie who’d sat next to him on countless double dates. Stevie, who’d teased him when his voice had cracked, and when he had his first girlfriend. Stevie who’d hugged him when he got his first contract, nearly shaking with excitement.

Stevie, who’s a grown man now, with strong arms that wear the captain’s armband well. He’s still got that sparkle in his eye, as if he’s thinking of some sort of cheeky trick to play.

The real world floods into Jamie’s senses. The blankness is gone, and suddenly, this is real. This is Stevie, with an arm on his back and the world’s happiest smile on his face.

This is Stevie, puckering his lips just so and Jamie knows what he wants.

Stevie kisses him.

There’s fifty thousand people in the stands, video cameras broadcasting their every move, and Stevie pulls him in and _kisses_ him. It’s silly, the kiss out on the pitch where everyone’s watching them. There are a million flashbulbs going off at once. It’s his best friend in the entire world, and Jamie’s being kissed by him.

Jamie’s kissing him back, too, and that’s when he realizes it was probably meant to be a kiss on the cheek and not on the mouth. He was probably supposed to turn his head and let Stevie peck his cheek and hug him tight. But it doesn’t matter. He can’t even find it in himself to get embarrassed. They’re just so _happy_.

They pull apart and look at each other for a moment, a single moment of eye contact before the photographer calls for them to look at the camera. They smile obligingly and the flash goes off.

They pick up their medals and the trophy they worked so hard for and they go back to the hotel.

They celebrate hard. Jamie’s never seen so many of his teammates so very drunk before. It’s ridiculous because somehow, he and Stevie are the soberest out of all of them, and they’re completely shitfaced.

Eventually, they go up to bed, so late at night that the sun is closer to coming up than to having gone down.

“You kissed me,” Jamie teases lightly, stripping down into his boxers and laying in bed.

“It was supposed to be your cheek,” Stevie mumbles, tripping as he’s pulling off his joggers. He laughs breathlessly as he collapses into his own bed. “You just weren’t cooperating, J. So really, it’s all your fault.”

They’re asleep before Jamie can even process the words, let alone respond to them.

It doesn’t get awkward until they come back home, really.

He catches Stevie looking at him sometimes. He looks at Jamie’s lips, or at his face, and sometimes, he’ll glance at his body, somehow familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

They’re drinking one night, and Stevie’s the one who brings it up.

“Do you remember when I kissed you?” He asks, as if it hadn’t been the best night of both their lives.

“Oh, you mean that night we won the Champions League?” Jamie asks dryly, “Yeah, I might remember a bit of that night, Steve.”

“Did you like it?” Stevie asks bluntly.

“I don’t remember. I was feeling a million things at once from the match, and it was over pretty quick. Why do you ask?”

“We’ve been friends for so long, J. Do you ever wonder if maybe things could be different?”

Jamie sits up and looks at him properly. “Tell me what you’re thinking about and we’ll figure out what to do.”

“I dunno, we were both feeling so much and everything was so crazy, and I just—I think I’m confused. And I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to mess this up because you’re my best friend in the world—“

Jamie shifts in closer and hugs him tight. “If you’re afraid of losing me, don’t be. I’m your best mate—hell, you’re my brother! That isn’t going to change, not ever.”

That only makes it worse. “I’m your brother,” Stevie echoes quietly, “that’s the end of that, then.”

Jamie hears the hurt in Stevie’s voice, and he hates it being there. “You’re not,” he says instantly, “you’re not my brother. Not if you don’t want me to be. What are you thinking?”

Stevie leans over and kisses him again. It’s the complete opposite of the last time. It’s quiet, in their living room, the television on mute as ads play. Jamie’s senses are full of Stevie for the duration of their kiss. Nothing else exists. It’s just Stevie. Stevie’s smell—that familiar cologne, Stevie’s hands on his cheeks, and Stevie’s stubble rough against his cheek. They’re not sweaty this time, and they’re kissing properly, holding each other tight with no metal cup in between.

Stevie pulls away, flushing. It takes a few seconds for him to build up the courage to look Jamie in the eyes. “Uh, how was that for you?”

“New,” Jamie says honestly, “different.”

The complete despair and hopelessness in Stevie’s eyes makes him keep going. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again,” he offers hesitantly.

Stevie’s looking at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world, and this time, he moves slowly, looking Jamie in the eyes as he moves closer. His eyes fall shut just a second before he kisses Jamie, and when they’re kissing again, Jamie’s eyes close, too.

The friction is nice. Unfamiliar, still, but not as much of a shock. Stevie’s a good kisser, he notices. He knows how to balance giving and taking. Jamie doesn’t know what comes over him, but he starts taking control of the kiss, experimenting, and Stevie instantly responds by parting his lips.

It strikes him, then, how much he doesn’t know about Stevie yet, even though they’ve known each other for so long, gone through so much.

“I want more of that,” Stevie says shyly, and he reaches out and takes Jamie’s hand, guiding it under his shirt so it’s resting against Stevie’s warm stomach. “Can we, please?”

Jamie nods, heart hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say, he’s too busy just _feeling_ to put his thoughts into words. He’s still trying to process this, trying to process the feeling of Stevie’s warm skin under his hands, the taste of his best friend’s mouth.

Stevie’s eyes are bright, even as his cheeks fill with color. “I haven’t stopped thinking about Istanbul. Not because of the trophy, either. Just—just you.”

“Have you—have you felt this way long?”

“Used to have a crush on you,” Stevie admits, tucking his face against Jamie’s neck and taking a deep breath. _Maybe it’s easier to say it when he can’t see my face,_ Jamie thinks. “You were my brother’s hot best friend, I was mad about you.”

Jamie thinks back and remembers how Stevie had hung on his every word growing up, how he’d been ever-present and always obliging.

He laughs and marvels at how soft Stevie’s hair is under his fingers. “I always thought you just idolized Paulie,” he says affectionately, “thought you were just being a cute little brother.”

Stevie shakes his head. “I thought I grew out of it. Like, I always knew you were pretty, and I knew you deserved more than you got, especially from your girlfriends—and I’d rather have just gone on a date with you than on double dates with two random girls. But I thought I was over it. I’m the only me in your life, you don’t have any other best friends who live with you and work with you that you’ve known since you were eight, so I guess I was just… more secure about it.”

“So you grew out of it. And then what happened?”

“I kissed you, J. And you kissed me back, and you didn’t look disgusted, or angry, just sort of happy. And every dream I’d ever had about you falling in love with me sort of came back all at once. But things didn’t really change much between us, so I wasn’t sure if I should keep hoping.”

“It won’t be easy,” Jamie warns, pulling Stevie away so they can look at each other. “I’ve been told I’m not easy, in a relationship. And working together and living together and being together—that’s a lot of risk, Steve. I don’t want to ruin things on the team when we have a fight, or if we break up and one of us has to move out.”

Stevie looks at him, warm eyes full of affection, and shakes his head, smiling. “I don’t care,” he says simply, “we’ll make it work. We never fight, I don’t know why we’d start now, J. And if it doesn’t work out, and we crash and burn, I’ll move out.”

“I don’t want you to move out,” Jamie says softly, “I like how we are now.”

“Then let’s stay the way we are now. Only I want you to kiss me and maybe I’ll move into your room, and we can sleep in bed together.”

“And what about sex?” Jamie can feel how red his face is, though he’s not proud of it. “I’ve never had sex with a man before. I don’t know how to do it. I might not be good at it.”

“We’ll learn together. Nobody’s good their first time, and you’d be my first lad, too, J. Never even kissed a lad before until Istanbul.” Stevie can see that this is genuinely bothering Jamie, that he’s nervous.

“I’m scared, too,” he whispers, “I’m scared of losing you, J. But what if we could have something so much better than what we have now? I want that with you.”

“And what if it falls apart?”

Stevie shakes his head. “I won’t let it. I won’t let us fall apart, J. Even if we break up, I’m staying your best friend. You’re stuck with me. We’ll go to counseling if that’s what it takes to make sure we get through it.”

Jamie nods, objections met at every turn. He leans forward, and for the first time, he initiates a kiss with his best friend. “You are kind of gorgeous,” he admits breathlessly when they pull apart next, “it’s annoying, seeing how gorgeous you are and how you seem to think you’re some hideous troll living under a bridge or something.”

Stevie’s almost glowing at the compliment, and something inside him settles. The nerves fade, and he kisses Jamie again and again, whispering to each other in the heartbeats in between.

He’s never been happier. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a cutesy epilogue with pets that I wrote in the middle but needed to be moved to the end in order to not derail the entire story :D

After a couple of years, Stevie starts asking if they can get a puppy. The house is pretty quiet with just the two of them in it, so Jamie agrees.

“Once we get our next trophy, you can get a puppy, Steve.”

It’s playful more than serious, and Jamie isn’t going to say no, even if they never win a trophy again, but Stevie takes it to heart. They win the FA Cup that year, and two days later, Stevie’s dragging him to shelters all over the city.

In the last one they check, they find a tiny little puppy. He’s a pretty puppy, with a brown head and rump but white splotches on his belly and back, and he has the widest, most innocent eyes Jamie’s ever seen.

“He’s the runt of the litter,” the shelter employee tells them, “mum wouldn’t feed him, he was almost dead when we got him here. He’ll need a lot of work, just so you know.”

Jamie looks at Stevie and smiles. “We’ll take him.”

They can’t quite decide on a name, and a week of calling him Pup, Puppers, and Baby, they figure they have to choose something.

They settle on Lennon, eventually, though that lasts all of three days before they’re calling him Lenny all the time. He’s tiny and energetic and he loves trying to crawl up their legs and falling asleep in their laps.

They cuddle Lenny all the time, and hearing those precious little steps running to the door when they arrive home is just the absolute best feeling.

They settle into a little rhythm, the three of them, and sometimes, when Lenny misbehaves or chews up one of their shoes, Jamie can hear Stevie telling him off.

“ _Lennon Gerrard Carragher_ , we did not bring you up to behave like this!”

Jamie knows it’s probably not sending Len the right message, but he can’t help laughing until he thinks he might break a rib. He contains himself eventually.

“Come on, Len, you can’t be chewing up our shoes, mate, we’ve got you loads of toys you can chew on, but not our shoes,” he says gently, sitting down on the floor and showing him the toy.

Lenny looks up at him with mournful eyes and lets out a soft little whine, and Jamie’s heart melts and he pulls him in for a cuddle.

“Carra, you’re such a softie,” he hears Stevie grumbling behind him, “he’s never gonna _learn_ —“

He does learn, eventually, with copious amounts of positive reinforcement and Jamie acting exceptionally sad when he comes across a ruined shoe. It helps that they start storing their shoes up on high shelves, too.   
\---

The next year, Jamie decides he wants a kitten. He loves Lenny, but he wants a cat, for whatever reason.

“Once we win our next trophy, J,” Stevie teases.

Stevie’d honored that decision, and so Jamie does too.

It’s the League Cup, and he’s more excited than he wants to admit when he takes Stevie (and Lenny, who has his own vote in the process), to the shelter and meets a few of the kittens.

He picks one that’s absolutely tiny and pure white, except for the little black fur socks on her feet.

Lulu’s the queen of the house two days later, with her own little bottle of milk she nurses from, and pride of place in their bed. He even gets her her own little scratching post, setting it in the corner.

Once she gets litter trained, their little family of four settles again, with Len and Lulu playing and teasing each other and playfully fighting for affection.

“Len, Lulu’s the baby,” Jamie hears himself say on more than one occasion, “let her have it, mate. She’s littler than you.”

This time it’s Stevie’s turn to burst into laughter. 

"God, I love you so much, but you've got to understand, babe, reasoning with Len is never going to work—“

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be for Football RPF Week, so thanks for the prompt!  
> Title is from a quote I found online: "A friend is someone who knows you and loves you just the same."


End file.
